What Fate Has To Offer
by Aelia O'Hession
Summary: An Irish family is taken to Scotland. How will they survive and what does fate have in store for them all? ON HOLD. Being rewritten
1. The Captives

What Fate Has To Offer  
By: Aelia O'Hession  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own ant of the Braveheart stuff. Wish I did, but you can't have everything that you wish for, right? Well, here you go! Oh, I have written another story in the Newsies fandom, if any of you every read there. Enjoy!  
  
Chapter 1: The Captives  
  
A ragged group of captives trudged through the thick mud that served as a road. Never once did they complain because they feared the whip. These people feared not the pain, but what the whip symbolized; cruelty and oppression. It had been many weeks since these captives had seen their home. The hard, cold, bare earth was far from the rolling hills of green with roaring coastlines. Every once and a while, the whip cracked over their heads, drawing them from that sweet dream.  
  
One such dreamer was a young woman. Long, brown hair with read highlights threatened to escape the braid that bound it. The more the cold wind blew, the greater the chance wisps of hair had of escaping. Her storm blue eyes started to water; partly from the wind and partly from longing.  
  
"Ceara," whispered an old woman in Gaelic. "Stay more alert. You must be strong. If these English gits see weakness, they jump all over you." A small smile on the woman's face showed that she told the truth.  
  
"Grandmother, please," whispered Ceara in the same language. "I'm not showing weakness, I just want to go home. Either that or curled up in a nice safe, warm corner with a book far away from these damn English!"  
  
Overhead, the dreaded whip cracked demanding that they be quiet. The only one of the captives who was exempt from the strict silence was a young boy. Barely three years old, this boy was a bright bubble of happiness. That little head of flaming red hair knew not why half his family, including his parents, was dead and that the remaining was being taken away from home.  
  
"Myechiyel," Ceara said quietly to that little head. "Try to sit still. Trina doesn't appreciate it too much when you keep moving in the saddle."  
  
"Aunt Ceara, sing me a song. Please."  
  
"Alright, but you must promise to keep still and quiet." Coming to walk beside the horse, Trina, Ceara began to sing a popular song that was a favorite of hers and her nephew.  
"Come by the hill to the land  
where fancy is free.  
And stand where the peaks met the sky  
and the rocks reach the sea.  
Where the rivers run clear and the bracken  
is gold in the sun.  
And cares of tomorrow must wait  
till this day is done." (Loreena McKennitt- "Come by the Hills")  
"You there, be quiet," barked one of the English guards that led Ceara's family. Quite simply, the entire group made a sad sight. What remained of Ceara's family looked more sturdy and hardy than the English soldiers that led them. Ceara, her younger sister Ebekah, their grandmother Diedyia, and Myechiyel, nephew of Ceara and Ebekah, were all that was left of the once large O'Noclahn family.  
  
For many weeks this unusual group traveled the cold land of England. The soldiers would grumble about how miserable things were while still not allowing the O'Noclahn's any small comfort like a fire. For warmth, Ceara, Ebekah, Diedyia, and Myechiyel all huddled together under their thread bare cloaks. Their tattered clothes provide little more. Yet, through all of this, they stayed strong and never gave in. Ebekah had the worst time of all because she was worrying about whether or not her betrothed, Savin, was still alive. It pained Ceara and Diedyia to see their kinswoman like this.  
  
"She shouldn't have to deal with this," Ceara said one night. "Of all the people in the world, this had to happen to her. Oh how I hate how Fate deals what schemes they have. Curses on them all!"  
  
"Ceara, be careful of what you say. I know Fate isn't fair and seldom is, but you have to deal with what they play. I know that you mean though; she's not the type of person who can deal with hard situations like this easily." Diedyia stopped speaking and looked up at the night sky. "Have you any idea of how long we've been traveling?"  
  
Ceara shook her head. "I lost count after the second week. All that I can be sure of is that Midwinter is coming soon." Sighing, she turned away and looked off far into the distance. Something told her that she was supposed to be here. She argued against it, but the feeling was persistent. As she slept, dreams took her to may places. Some she recognized like home in Ireland, but others were strange. She tried to hold on to home, but her dreams had other plans. One dream showed her a large royal looking castle and a city surrounding it. She was brought inside this castle to see its lord and his family presiding over some matter. Ceara was then whisked away to another castle and city, but this one was less royal looking. She was shown a young lord, a few years older than herself standing on a wall, with a look of absolute boredom. Before she could question what she was seeing, the dreams left her whispering, This is your destiny. Do not be afraid to follow it. She was then left in a restless sleep.  
  
The next morning, Ebekah roused Ceara early before the sunrise. "Dear sister of mine, please tell me that there is a small glimmer of hope that Savin is still alive. I need to know."  
  
Something inside of Ceara told her that there was no hope, but then, watching the sun rise above the barren hills, she felt hope. "Ebekah, listen to me. There is hope, but you must be patient."  
  
"But I can't!" Ebekah shrieked. "Do you realize how hard this is for me?" Tears flooded her eyes, threatening to leak out.  
  
"Ebekah, I know this is hard, but you must be strong. Do you understand why our family has been able to stay free for so long? It is because we are strong and that we have never lost hope, even in the darkest of times." Ceara realized that she was practically quoting a speech Diedyia had given her. Ebekah soon realized this as well and the two sisters began on a bout of uncontrollable laughter.  
  
"What, under the Great Mother Goddess are you two cackling about?" demanded Diedyia. Seeing the look of frustration on their grandmother's face made them laugh even harder. "Hush up you two. Do you want to wake our friendly English captors and make them angry and short tempered?" A note of sarcasm rang in Diedyia's voice even though she was completely serious.  
  
"That makes a difference from what they normally are how?" piped up Myechiyel.  
  
Diedyia turned her attention to scolding Myechiyel, allowing her granddaughters to pull faces that only young girls would dare to pull.  
  
"Alright you lot," grumbled one of the soldiers. "Let's get moving. If we keep a steady pace, we'll reach Londinium in four days time."  
  
"And that's four more days of misery with you lovely people," muttered Ebekah. Turning to Ceara she asked, "Strength, huh? If it's a family trait, I don't see it in me. But then again, you don't have the family brashness that comes along with said strength."  
  
Ceara opened her mouth, about to protest, but Ebekah cut her off. "Yes you are free-spirited and strong-willed, but you aren't as impulsive as the rest of us. Be thankful, that's the trait that we're all jealous of; your serenity."  
  
For the next four days, the company was forces to endure the cold winter snows. Back in January when they had been captured, the O'Noclahn family had been settling in for the winter. Since then, they endured a one and a half week march across Ireland to Baile atha Claith(Dublin) where boarded a boat to bring them to England. A two week journey had brought them four days outside of Londinium. 


	2. Londinium

Chapter 2: Londinium  
  
They reached Londinium on Midwinter. They were surprised to find that there was not a single person celebrating the holiday. Back in Ireland, any city or town that you passed through would have been alive with merriment. The soldiers brought their captives through the dark streets; guttering torches lighting their way. A few residents peered out their windows as they saw a group of women and a little boy being led y English soldiers.  
  
"Picked up for thieving," some towns-people whispered. The more frequent rumor was "They were found in the woods practicing dark magic. Possibly even witchcraft."  
  
This rumor, the O'Noclahn's half agreed with for, by their own choice, they were pagan, practicing the ancient Druid ways. It was not uncommon only because Christianity had not yet spread to the far reaches of western Ireland. Traces of the new religion could be found in Baile atha Claith, but most still believed in the ancient ways.  
  
The soldiers led their captives unceremoniously through the heavy castle gates. Within, even more stony faced soldiers awaited Ceara and her family. One soldier with the mark of a captain said roughly, "For the night, you will be staying in the dungeons; the rightful lodging for people like yourselves."  
  
The whole family protested this harsh treatment, but they only received a harsher one with whips being lashed across their backs and being beaten with cudgels. Ceara suffered the most because she tried to keep Myechiyel away from the reach of the weapons. Blood and sweat mingled with dark bruises on Ceara's light skin, creating a gruesome picture.  
  
In the dark depths of a dungeon, the O'Noclahn family awoke. Around them came the sounds of jeering male prisoners and guards. Any obscenity that was thrown at Ceara or Ebekah was ignored. The sisters had learned early in life that acknowledging a rude comment only opened them up for more.  
  
For most of the day, they stayed silent, lost in their own thoughts. Why must I live out what is left of y life in such a barren place as this? wondered Diedyia. Ebekah only wondered, How will Savin find me? He doesn't even know that I have been taken. Contempt and anguish filled her thoughts, making them more sure than she actually felt. Myechiyel only wondered why his kinswomen were so upset about leaving home. For the little boy, this was all a grand adventure.  
  
Ceara, however, was thinking about many different things. Never once was it said that I had an aptitude for the Sight. Why now, then, am I being granted visions? Four days ago I dreamt about this castle. Now I am here. What does all of this mean? Besides questioning her dreams, Ceara worried and wondered about her life. What if Fate decides that I should do something different than what Diedyia wants me to? She has everything planned out; Ebekah was going to be a wife and mother, our now dead brother was going to be a merchant, and I was going to be sent off to become a priestess among the Druids of Ireland. When things go against Diedyia's plans, she becomes a very miserable controlling person. Ebekah probably hasn't noticed it, but I have; she's beginning to plot and curse. With a sigh of resignation, Ceara got up and began to pace around the small cell. The smell of old straw filled her nose, but underneath it was something far more pleasant; the sent of hope. Standing in a corner, she watched her dismal family. Ebekah's eyes were puffy and red with tears; Diedyia had a calculating look on her face; and Myechiyel had mere confusion written all over his. Catching Ceara's eyes, he got up and walked over to her.  
  
"Ceara, why is everyone so sad?" Puzzlement filled his young voice as he tried to fathom reasons beyond him. Picking her nephew up, she explained everything in the only way she knew how; by the stark truth.  
  
"Myechiyel, each one of us is sad for our own reasons." Gently, she told him what was going on and that she didn't know what was going to happen to them.  
  
Suddenly, a guard appeared at their cell. "All of you, up on your feet. You're going to be brought before His Majesty, King Edward the Longshanks. I suggest you stay quiet so that his punishment will be merciful." 


	3. Before the King

Chapter 3: Before the King  
  
Filthy as they were, the O'Noclahn family was brought up out of the bowels of the castle. A brief glance out a nearby window told Ceara that it was nightfall and time for everyone to have the evening meal. They were dragged for almost half an hour before they reached the doors of the Great Hall.  
  
Slowly, the doors opened, offering glimpses of the hall and scents of the food. Ceara's stomach growled reminding her that she had not eaten in over two days. She ignored her hunger however, the weeks of traveling accustomed her to an empty stomach. Picking up the weary Myechiyel, she continued the journey with renewed energy.  
  
They were led inside and brought before the dais. Above them, King Edward the Longshanks glared down. "Who are these pitiful people that you bring before me? Captain?"  
  
"These are the Irish captives that were brought in last night. We bring them here at your bidding."  
"Very well, have them state who they are and we will judge them from there. Come forward."  
  
Ceara stepped forward to speak before Diedyia had the chance to ruin their lives. "Milord, I am Ceara." She beckoned for Ebekah. "This is my younger sister, Ebekah." Ceara then motioned to her nephew in her arms. "This is our nephew Myechiyel. Finally, this is our grandmother Diedyia. We are all that remains of the O'Noclahn clan. Are you satisfied with your information?"  
  
Ceara took the next moment to survey the king's family. She saw his dour, weak son, Edward, sitting at his right. Her eyes then passed over a more human looking member. She figured this woman to be the wife of the prince for she sat at the prince's right. Ceara felt pity for the princess only because she had to live with these people every day.  
  
King Edward turned towards his son asking, "What do you suppose we do with them?"  
  
Immediately, Prince Edward brought on a haughty air. "I would deal with them quickly. They are not like us, and if we keep them here they will be taking up room in our already overcrowded city. Execute them."  
  
Ebekah began to cry silently and Diedyia gave a sigh of resignation. Myechiyel looked around, completely confused. Ceara stood there, stone faced, willing to accept her fate.  
  
Just as the guards were about to drag them away, Princess Isabella stood up. "Wait, they don't deserve this. Milord, at least have the decency to send them to Scotland. At least there they will be with other Celts."  
  
After a few murmured words to his councilors, King Edward agreed. "However, one question remains; who will lead them? We can't have then running back to Ireland, now can we?"  
  
"I shall," said a middle aged Scottish lord. His hair and eyes were dark, making him a cold figure.  
  
"Very well. You shall lead them to Edinburgh. After that, they are Robert the Bruce's problem. You leave in the morning."  
  
"Servant," called the princess. "Bring these people a good meal; they look as though they could use it." She turned to the O'Noclahns. "Please, seat yourselves by the hearth. Let the fire warm your tired bodies."  
  
Ceara could not tell whether the princess was being kind out of charity or just to spite her husband and father-in-law. As Ceara walked away, she briefly turned to look at Isabella's face. Looking into it, she saw a mixture of both charity and disobedience. Not that Ceara blamed the princess; Ceara had certainly been disobedient out of spite before.  
  
As they ate, Diedyia contemplated how she could turn this situation to her advantage. She ate little, despite the urgings of her granddaughters. Ebekah once again lamented the loss of her betrothed, but kept it to herself. Ceara, on the other hand was steeling herself for another hard, long, miserable journey. She had discovered that Lord Mornay would be leading them to Edinburgh. As the talk died away, Ceara found herself lost in her own thoughts. Why is it that my vision was right? How come now, of all times, do I receive the sight? Still thinking, she did not see Lord Mornay come up.  
  
"Just so you are aware, we will be leaving at dawn. Ready your things now so as not to cause delay."  
  
Ebekah voiced a small grumble, but was then silent. She moved closer to her sister, worried about what was going to happen. Ceara calmed her sister's fears, while still making sure that Myechiyel ate. Diedyia was still wondering about how to change destiny. There has to be a way to change things. If Savin doesn't return, Ebekah can be easily married off. She'll comply to my wishes. Ceara on the hand, is a problem. She cares too deeply for the well being of her family. It'll take some work to douse her fire. It would be a waste of good intellect if she didn't use it. If I can't find a good Druid colony, a nunnery works just as well. She kept thinking until she was fast asleep where she sat.  
  
"Ebekah, watch Myechiyel. I'm going to make sure that Trina stays with us." Ceara's voice was gentle so Ebekah would not worry too much. "I'm also going to see if the cook could spare us some food."  
  
"Could you see if anyone has an old cloak they would like to give us? Myechiyel's is almost nothing."  
  
Ceara smiled at her sister. "Of course. Just remember that it isn't quite that high on our list of priorities." With that said, Ceara went off to fulfill hat she had promised.  
  
That night, Ceara's dream-visions were filled with despair, suffering, and death. She saw a nation being torn at its already weak seams. She tried to make sense of it all, but nothing would come. 


	4. The Journey North

Author's Note: Many thanks to all of you that have reviewed. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy. Keep reviewing, and tell your friends as well. Thanks so much!!  
  
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Chapter 4: The Journey North  
  
The next morning Ceara awoke early, wary of the journey that was ahead. She had taken Myechiyel's old cloak and turned it into a pack for the food that the cook had so kindly given. Myechiyel was wrapped in a new cloak which had come from a mother who had recently lost her son. Ebekah was next to wake, immediately taking note of the fact that her sister was already awake. "Why are you up so early?"  
  
"I had to sew the food pack. The cloak only just arrived. You'd think I wanted to wake up early." Ceara turned away shaking her head.  
  
After a moment's hesitation, Ebekah asked, "What were you dreaming? You kept screaming. A guard actually came in to see if you were being beaten." A quizzical look passed across Ebekah's face, wondering just what her sister had seen.  
  
"I.I.," Ceara began. "I saw. so many horrible things. So much death and - oh the fires!" A spasm of terror crossed her face as last night's visions resurfaced.  
  
"Hush, hush. It's alright. You still walk in the land of the living. Calm now, you don't want to wake Diedyia. She'll only get nosy and make you recall everything you've seen. I wish she would stop trying to undermine the family."  
  
Even now as Ebekah spoke, the tides of Fate were turning once again. None could even dare predict what would happen in the weeks to come. Ceara pushed all vision thoughts out of her head and concentrated on getting ready. Spending time with Ebekah put a smile on Ceara's face and brightened her mood. Lord Mornay came and said that they would be leaving now and the O'Noclahns went off again. Trina was allowed to stay and it was made clear by both Ceara and Ebekah that she would be staying with them.  
  
As the group traveled steadily north from Londinium, the winter weather grew considerably worse. Cold winds bit to the bone and snow fell, numbing even the most well clad foot. Despite the watchful eye of their grandmother, Ceara was still able to teach Ebekah to stand up for herself and not be pushed around.  
  
"Ebekah, look at it this way; Clan O'Noclahn will fall if we aren't strong enough to resist grandmamma. All our lives we've seen the iron fist with which she rules the clan." Ceara searched her sister's face for some small hint of recognition. "What kind of wife will you be to Savin if you are still controlled by your own grandmother? It would be as if Savin never existed in your life." Ceara then knew she struck a chord deep within her sister.  
  
They passed the next few days in almost complete silence. Only Ceara's occasional song filled the quiet air. Even the horses were quiet. Nights, however, were not so quiet. Ceara's dream-visions grew even more frequent; so much so that Ceara was afraid to fall asleep. Weary with age and long travel, Diedyia did not even bother to ask what her granddaughter's visions were of.  
  
After a week of travel, the haggard group passed York and the North Wall which separated England from Scotland. Now in Scotland, the land appeared to be less bare and forbidding. One afternoon Ebekah said, "It 's almost like home. Not quite Donegal, Ireland, but close."  
  
Being now in his own country, Lord Mornay was more willing to act normally. Though he was still a cold figure, he seemed more at ease with his authoritative power. One night he asked Ceara to come and speak with him. "What's a woman like you doing still tied down to your family? Most are married and have a family of their own."  
  
He moved closer, making Ceara very uncomfortable. "Lord Mornay, if I wasn't still with my family, Myechiyel wouldn't be cared for." Ceara became very aware of the hand he had placed on her shoulder.  
  
"Who cares for their family any more? It would be good of you to leave them. They don't need you." Mornay's voice was getting thicker as he spoke. His warm, ale smelling breath was blowing on her neck as he slowly backed her into a tree.  
  
The next series of events were all a blur to Ceara later. All she remembered was the searing pain that ran through her head as Lord Mornay smashed it into the tree.  
  
What had happened was this. Mornay was a lonely man; his wife had died in childbed. He saw Ceara as the perfect opportunity to fix his current situation. It had not taken much to lure Ceara away from camp. He had merely called it a late night walk to show her some of Scotland. The tree had happened to be a convenient way of getting her to submit. She had struggled, almost as much as a captive bear. Still, he managed to rip at her dress and split it down the middle. Nothing made him more excited than a young, naked woman struggling to get free. With one hand, he held her down while the other took off his own clothes. The next moment, all he felt was searing pain in his back. Spinning around, he saw a wolf pup. Damn wolf thought Mornay. Ignoring the pain, he tried to continue what he was about to start. As if right on cue, the little wolf bit again. Mornay decided to leave Ceara alone for fear of being torn to pieces.  
  
The next morning, Ceara awoke at the base of the tree, wondering why she was lying naked in the forest. Beside her, she saw a small ball of fuzz that happened to be the same wolf pup that saved her. Gathering up her destroyed dress, she fixed it was well ash she could and took up the pup as well. She walked towards the direction that she thought was camp. About an hour later, she heard the familiar shriek that belonged to Diedyia.  
  
"Where, on this Goddess blessed earth, is my granddaughter?!? Don't try to lie to me because it won't work. And don't even think about trying to tell me that you didn't have anything to do with this." Diedyia was very good at scaring people into telling the truth. Her grey eyes flashed with untold anger . With her curly red hair flying out of its bun, she looked like the perfect picture of the Morrigan, Lady of Death and Revenge.  
  
In the distance, Ceara ran towards that angry voice, almost taking comfort in the motherly undertones. "Grandmamma, I'm right here." Ceara called the moment she was within hearing distance. Her small bundle poked its head up to see where it was now.  
  
Lord Mornay immediately saw that small furry head that had cost him his fun. "get that disgusting animal out of my sight. Have it Killed for God's sake!"  
  
"Is that anyway to talk about my granddaughter?" demanded Diedyia.  
  
Taken aback, Mornay said, "I meant not your granddaughter. She is quite lovely. I meant the wolf pup she bears in her arms."  
  
"You will do no such thing," retorted Ceara, like a girl half her age. "I owe this pup my life, I am quite sure of it. He will stay with me. He is a gift from the Fates. I will name him Siochona, meaning 'guard' in Gaelic." Satisfied with his name, Siochona settled down again.  
  
The next week was as dreary as the first. Though they were in Scotland and the land had lost much of the foreboding presence that England had possessed, it was still rather barren. Winter conditions were nothing short of deadly. It took every fiber of each person's being not to succumb to the cold.  
  
One bitter night, Ceara had the worst time getting to sleep. Each time she tried, she was only plagued with visions of that day Mornay tried to rape her. Finally, she decided that she would just have to deal with the memory if she was to have any semblance of sleep. Ceara let the memory come, endured its pain and moved on. This night, one of her dream-visions came upon her. She expected to see the same castle (that Ceara could only assume was in Scotland) and the same, young bored lord. She could remember his features quite clearly; soft brown eyes and thick brown hair. His face was framed by a cropped beard. Ceara took comfort in this picture, hoping that one day she may be ale to meet this man.  
  
The Sight, however, had different plans. This night, she wandered the wilds of Scotland. She walked the highlands which remaindered her of Ireland and home in Donegal; she walked the deep forests. In one such forest, she came upon a man dressed in Irish garb. Ceara found it strange, but then she heard him speak; the lilting Irish brogue that she loved so much rolled off his tongue and sounded like music in her ears. His grey eyes flashed with merriment and laughter. His face seemed almost impish at times. Then, his expression changed. Gone was the laughing voice and smiling eyes. They were replaced with by the look of a seasoned warrior. Still, despite the change, Ceara still felt safe.  
  
Ceara woke the next morning, only vaguely remembering the dream. All she could remember was the safe feeling and his face. His laughing grey eyes, and the chin length brown hair coupled with a short cropped beard. As much as she tried to recall the sound of his voice, her memory would not obey her command.  
  
Ebekah was awake beside her sister, wondering just what Ceara was thinking about. The thought was dismissed however when the harsh cold wind blew about her. "Ceara, pull on your cloak," Ebekah chided her older sister. The sound of Ebekah's voice pulled Ceara down to earth.  
  
"Sorry, the Sight came to me again last night. I'm just trying to figure out what it all means." There was no way that she was going to tell Ebekah about the man she saw. She would only start twisting things around and making up stories as younger sisters do.  
  
"Just don't let Diedyia know you've been having more visions. You'd never get her off your back! And besides, it would just be one more reason for her to send you off to learn among the Druids for the rest of your life. Despite what she thinks, I know that you eventually want to settle down and have a family. You just haven't met the right man yet. Believe me, I know exactly what you're going through." Ebekah began packing up what little possessions the O'Noclahns had.  
  
"Thank you. It's good to know that at least someone understands." Ceara called for Siochona, and he came quite obediently. When they finally had a semi-permanent home, Ceara decided that it would be in her best interest to teach Siochona to fight, hunt, and signal people. She realized that the latter was a bit far fetched, but she would give it a try.  
  
Winter was bearing down hard, like a mother giving birth. Snow fell constantly and cold winds ravaged the poor travelers. They could do nothing to fend off the cold. It bit deeply, leaving the body numb for hours on end. The weather reminded Ceara of a song that she had heard one winter. She only remembered the last stanza, which went like;  
"Then all is silent and the snow falls  
Settling soft and slow  
The evening deepens and the grey  
Folds closer earth and sky  
The world seems shrouded, far away." (Loreena McKennitt - "Snow") Starting a fire was a challenge; the cruel wind thought it would be fun to blow it out. Their best bet was just to keep moving. By the end of the third week, they reached Edinburgh. 


	5. Edinburgh

Chapter 5: Edinburgh  
  
The city around the fortress was quiet, but then again, it was the dead of winter. Though spring was only a month away, it felt as though the relief of spring was not coming for another couple of months.  
  
Lord Mornay led them through the gates and into the fortress. It could not quite be considered a castle because it had wooden palisades, but they were strong and formidable, giving a castle like quality. "Here, you will be at the mercy of Sir Robert the Bruce, 17th Earl of Scotland."  
  
If, by giving the Bruce's full title, Mornay was trying to scare the O'Noclahn family, he was not doing a good job. The overlord that had ruled Donegal where they had lived in Ireland had a much longer title than this. Resolutely, they followed Mornay into the hall.  
  
Sounds of fighting filled the air as Robert the Bruce tried to control the squabbling nobles. His efforts were fruitless however, and he was resigned to sit slumped in his chair, head on his hand. He was the perfect picture of the reluctant noble. Where's Morany? Robert wondered. He should be back from England by now. It's not like him to be daunted by the weather.  
  
"Milords, may I present the Lord Mornay," cried a page.  
  
Lord Mornay strode in, proud of his noble rank. The O'Noclahn family walked in behind him, a bit unsure of how to act. At least in Londinium they had been captives, so they were positive of how they should act. Mow, they were just an Irish family being brought into Scotland. Siochona padded softly behind Ceara, almost as if he knew what the reaction to him would be.  
  
Lord Craig stood up demanding, "Mornay, who or what are these things that follow you into this hall?"  
  
"His Majesty, King Edward the Longshanks sent them with me. They are captives from Ireland, they are a family. Princess Isabella took pity on them and decreed that they should be sent to a land like they own. I was the available lord to bring them." Mornay then turned to Robert. "Now that they stand in your hall, they are at your mercy. They must stay in Scotland, but you may send them away from Edinburgh."  
  
The Bruce stood and bade the O'Noclahns to come forward. Knowing that Diedyia would run her mouth, Ceara led them. Ebekah, red curly hair hanging at her waist and green eyes moist, balanced Myechiyel on her hip. It was Ebekah's apparent beauty that caught Robert's eye first, but then he saw the claddagh on her finger that showed that she was betrothed or married. Robert's gaze then fell on Ceara. Her storm blue eyes were steady and her hair was bound back in a braid.  
  
It was common knowledge among the people of Donegal that Ebekah was the more beautiful of the two sisters. This was partly because Ebekah did have the physical beauty, but it was also because Ebekah was one to stay and do the chores of the household. Ceara on the other hand loved being outside and helping the men. She even had a bit of weapons training. This was not to say that Ebekah was helpless; he younger sister knew had to fight and fight well. Their father Carragh would not allow his daughters to walk through life without knowing self-defense. He was overjoyed when he learned that his daughters were quite taken with the idea. The two girls practiced incessantly during their childhood. Slowly, however, Ebekah was drawn to the household. She never forgot what she learned though. The call of the household was strong and she answered; partly because she had grown up with Ceara, while Ceara had grown up their older brother Telac. Ceara and Telac had always tackled had jobs together. Jobs like chopping firewood, farming, and hunting toughened Ceara to the lifestyle that was to come.  
  
Despite her love for men's work, Ceara was drawn to books and music. The lady at Donegal, Lady Aideen, had been kind to Ceara when she had worked as the lady's personal servant. Everyday for an hour, Lady Aideen would allow Ceara full run of the library and music room. Sometimes Ceara would sit and play the harp, other times she would sit by the fire or an open window and read. Sitting among the books was one of the times Ceara was happiest. The other time that made her happy was when she was allowed to run the forests and hills of Ireland. Such a simple joy was lost on most people. As mush as she loved weapons, she loved books and music even more.  
  
This is not to mean that Ceara was without beautiful features. Her stormy blue eyes were enough to make anyone talk and she had long auburn hair that streamed well past her waist. In fact, it went all the way to the bottom of her butt. It was thick and wavy making it all the more annoying; but she refused to cut it. Every O'Noclahn was blessed with three things; a full mouth, large breasts, and a slim but strong figure. As much as past O'Noclahn women tried, they could not change any of those traits. Often, you could hear an O'Noclahn woman complain about how annoying large breasts are.  
  
As Robert the Bruce watched Ceara walk forward, he realized that she was from a family that was used to disturbances in their everyday lives. Clan wars were no exception. All three of the O'Noclahn women bore a strength that few Scottish could boast. He rose from his chair and faced the family. "Tell me who you are and why you have come."  
  
"We are the O'Noclahn family from Donegal Ireland," Ceara began. "I am Ceara and this is my younger sister Ebekah, who holds our nephew Myechiyel, and this is our grandmother Diedyia. We are all that remains of the O'Noclahn clan. We have come to Scotland because we were taken from our homes and brought to England. King Edward the Longshanks was going to have us executed. It is only by the compassion of Princess Isabella that we found ourselves being led north by Lord Mornay. Now, standing before you in your own hall, we are at your mercy." Ceara appeared calm, but her whole being trembled with uncertainty.  
  
Robert thought over the possibilities of what he could do with them. I could cast them away and make them fend for themselves. No, that is too cruel. They have endured enough. Wait, here's what I'll do; I will allow them to live inside the castle until spring. Then they must find a plot of land in Edinburgh and build a home. Until the home is complete, they will be permitted to continue living in the castle. In order to earn their keep, they will work as servants.  
  
The Bruce conveyed his idea, and the O'Noclahns agreed. A servant came to bring them to their new quarters. In the kitchens they were welcomed and given a meal. They soon discovered that they were not the only Irish to suffer this fate. The head servant told them that they would start in the morning.  
  
"He seems fair enough," Ebekah said over supper. "I mean, at least he's kind enough to let us live in the castle 'till we get our home built. He could have cast us away."  
  
Ceara nodded. It seemed to her that they could finally begin to lead a life again. She knew it would be a while, but at least they now had somewhere that they could call home. She turned to look at her grandmamma. The only expression on Diedyia's face was one of complete exhaustion. But Ceara knew better than that. She knew that Diedyia was thinking long and hard about something. She knew not what, but thought it best if she did not know.  
  
While everyone else slept that night, Ceara stayed awake. She was trying to fix the only dress that she owned. Tucked safely away in one of Trina's saddle bags was her mother, Rhies' wedding gown; the same gown that Rhies wore when she attended the lady Aideen at banquet. Tucked away in another saddle bag was her father's weaponry. Not being a rich man, Carragh had only owned a dirk, dagger and broadsword. These weapons had been forged by Brannoc, Ceara's grandfather and Rhies' father. Each hilt was emblazoned with the clan symbol, the solidarity. The first generation of O'Noclahns had chosen the solidarity because it means strength, determination and loyalty; three traits that all O'Noclahns believe in very strongly.  
  
Ceara managed to turn her old torn dress into one that laced up the front. She deepened the square neck and got rid of the sleeves. A servant had given her a long sleeved dressing gown which would now serve as the under-dress for the altered one. Overall, Ceara was quite pleased with her handiwork. Rhies, her mother, had taught her everything she knew about sewing and weaving cloth, and even spinning. Ceara knew that she would have to put these skills to good use her if the family was going to have any clothes to wear in the years to come; she hoped.  
  
Restless, Ceara got up and began walking around. She circled the servants quarters and then walked into main castle area. She walked the now empty great hall, and through some dark hallways. Not a single torch blazed, giving Ceara no idea of where she was going. She then found a staircase that led upwards. Unsure if it would lead her to the ramparts, she climbed it. Id did indeed lead to the ramparts and Ceara, barefoot and dressed only in a thin dressing gown, walked out. The brisk winter wind blew about her, toying with hair that was loose and unbound from its normal braid. Snow crunched underfoot and numbed her toes. After walking a bit, she drew herself up onto one on the ramparts and sat, watching the Scottish land.  
  
Soon it grew too cold, even for Ceara's comfort. She walked back to the servants quarters and curled up on her pallet. Sleep cam quickly, though it was troubled. She saw her Irishman (as she now called him). But she saw him in a fierce battle alongside many fearless Scottish warriors. The blood and fire painted the land red. She saw the aftermath; many wounded and killed lying on the field, their faces contorted with pain. Ceara woke up screaming and shaking. Everyone else awoke at her screaming, and wondered what was happening.  
  
"Ceara, what did you see?" demanded Diedyia. There was concern, but not enough.  
  
"A torn nation.warriors fighting.a land bathed in blood." babbled Ceara in Gaelic. "So many dead."  
  
A few of the servants who could understand the Irish Gaelic shuddered. For many months now, unrest was growing among Scotland's people. Many knew that it would not be too long before a spark lit a raging fire.  
  
Ebekah stood up, appalled at Deidyia's disconcern for her granddaughter. "Grandmother, stop that this instant." Ebekah spoke plainly so that all could understand her. Unaware to her, Robert the Bruce and various other nobles came in to see what the noise was about. "All my life, I have seen you bend the wills and minds of our kinspeople for your own personal gain. I won't have it any more!"  
  
"I do this for your best interests," Diedyia interrupted.  
  
"How can you say that? You have no idea of who I am and what I want. I can almost guarantee that you're glad that Savin isn't here. Deciding to love him was the closest to defiance of you that I've come." At each word, she saw Diedyia flinch.  
  
"Now you sit here and make Ceara recall everything that she's seen just so you know how fate is working or how it's going to work," continued Ebekah. "Can't you see that it hurts her to dredge up all of those painful memories? All her life, she's been trying to work around that iron fist of yours." Ebekah saw her sister pull herself up straight from where she was sitting. The glare in Ceara's storm blue eyes was almost unnatural and mystic.  
  
"Diedyia," Ceara finally said after a moment of absolute silence. "You realize that we will never comply to your wishes because it is not what we want for our lives. It is not that we don't love you as a kinswoman, it's just that we want the ability to live our lives the way that we want to."  
  
Shocked by what they had just seen, the nobles slipped quietly away. "The joys of being common," joked a noble named Locland.  
  
"What do you mean," questioned Lord Mornay.  
  
"Just that, when you're common, you can have fights like that and nobody will question you. As a noble, you say one word like that and questions will be asked and you could very well be dead."  
  
"True enough," said Lord Craig. Of the three nobles, he was the one who was a bit wary of England coming to rule Scotland. Though he would never say it to the others, he knew nothing good would come to Scotland if the English decided to rule it.  
  
Diedyia still stood there, trying to deal with her granddaughters' outbursts. I'm only trying to give them the best possible life. Why can't they see that? Why should they be stuck in the constant circle of work, when they could be using their skills to be doing something much better.  
  
The sisters saw that their grandmother was not going to see their point of view. At least they had now made it clear that they would not so easily be controlled. Knowing that they ha made some impact on their grandmother's mind, was small comfort, but at least it was something. Deciding that it was too late to try and sleep, Ebekah and Ceara dressed and went out side.  
  
Wind streaming through their loose hair, the sisters ran barefoot through the snow covered forest. Had there been a passerby, he could have believed them to be faeries or nymphs with their pure musical laughter and sprightly running. The stopped by a frozen stream to take a drink and bind back their hair for their day's work. For Ceara to braid Ebekah's hair didn't take long, because it was only to fell to her waist. The curls however, put up a fight. Ceara's long thick hair was something that few people would have the patience to deal with. When they were done, they took their time walking back to Edinburgh, so they could take in Scotland's beauty. How their lives were going to be here, the sisters knew not. That was Fate's job. 


	6. Service to the Bruce

Chapter 6: Service to the Bruce  
  
If there was any question as to whether or not the O'Noclahn's had id easy, guess again. They worked constantly, doing hard, long tasks that would have killed anyone who was unused to such heavy work. They worked just as hard as any other servant, possibly even harder. Each one of them knew that at any moment, the Bruce could decide to cast them aside.  
  
Ceara was scouring the wooden tables when Robert the Bruce walked into the Great Hall. "Ceara, may I speak with you for a moment?"  
  
Only if you help me scour these tables, Ceara thought. Keeping her voice light she said, "Certainly, milord."  
  
"Let me first start out y saying that your family's service has been wonderful this past month. Never, in all my life, have I seen this place look as it does now. Our own permanent servants have never worked as hard as you all are doing now. I never thought that people could actually work this hard." The Bruce would have kept talking, but Ceara interrupted him.  
  
"Forgive me for saying this, but maybe it might stay like this if you had a lady here to organize such work."  
  
To her surprise, Robert actually started laughing. "You're probably right. My father has been after me for the longest time for me to find a wife."  
  
"Then apparently neither of you has been looking hard enough. But then again, Scotland isn't abound with marriageable ladies." Ceara said this, hoping that he would not become offended.  
  
Still laughing, Robert said, "You're correct. And I have no desire to be married to a foreign lady, who probably doesn't even speak English. But on to more serious things. I'm sure that you are aware that Spring is almost here."  
  
"I am aware, yes. And I also realize that you will be needing my family and me to build a home."  
  
"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Would you and your family consider staying in the castle as permanent residents? I could give the family quarters." Robert continued to describe what he could do for the family.  
  
As much as Ceara knew that her family and even she would not mind staying, it was part of the Irish nature to want to build your own home. That way, you could actually call it your own. Ebekah and Ceara had been talking about what kind of home they wanted to build. Both decided that because it would be three women building, it would have to be relatively simple. It was decided that a traditional Celtic roundhouse was the best, especially for the area and who was building it. A stable was going to connect to it by a hallway. Overall, the two sisters were very proud of their design. The walls would be made of stone and three feet high, with the other four feet made of woven sticks and daub. The roundhouse would also have the traditional pointed thatched roof. Diedyia insisted that they build a large stone fireplace and hearth, because she was not going to cook over an open fire pit. After building was complete, it would seem as though that someone had taken an Irish home and dumped it in Scotland.  
  
Spring came and saw the O'Noclahn's finding a spot to build their new home. After some searching, they decided on a spot near the forest that Ebekah and Ceara had rum into on their first day here, a month ago. They plotted out where it would be and how big. When that was decided, they borrowed some axes and went to go cut wood for the support beams. Diedyia and Myechiyel stayed behind to dig the holes for the beams and level the land that would become the floor.  
  
Out in the forest, Ebekah and Ceara worked hard to find the right trees for the beams. "No offense to you Ebekah, but right now, it would be really great if we had a man in the family. Don't take this to mean that I don't think you're working hard; you are, but you know." Ceara trailed off, unsure of what to sat next.  
  
Ebekah looked up at her sister, an impish glint in her eye. "Well, maybe if you took Robert's hints and acted upon them, we may not be I this situation." She gave her older sister a crooked smile, one that said she knew what was going on.  
  
"How can you say such a thing! He's a noble!"  
  
"Ceara, he's been dropping hints like you wouldn't believe! How can you be so blind to them?"  
  
"I know what he wants; I'm not blind like you are suggesting. First of all, he's not the type of person I could live with for the rest of my life. Sure he's a good person, but still, he's just not my kind of person." Ceara frowned at her sister, shocked by the idea of Ebekah even saying something like that.  
  
"So the fact that he's a very good looking noble has nothing to do with it? You wouldn't even give him a try, considering?"  
  
Ceara stood, hands on her hips, firmly and clearly stating, "The fact that he's a good looking noble holds no glamour in my eyes. You know I hate money. It corrupts people."  
  
"Alright, alright, don't get so uptight. It wasn't supposed to mean anything. I was just saying."  
  
"And your gossip will get you no where fast." Ceara playfully shot back. Ever since they were young, exchanges like this were common. Since they were held in favor of the overlord and his family, all the young men tried to court the sisters. The two of them could not stand it thought. They knew that there were girls in Donegal who would have killed to be the O'Noclahn sisters. Ceara and Ebekah, however, were simple girls with simple tastes.  
  
By the middle of the afternoon, they had collected all of the support beams that they would need. They spent the rest of the afternoon finishing the beams. The rough edges had to be smoothed to the strong and durable. The sisters stripped the wood of the bark and smoothed the supple under wood down. Having nothing else to do, they wandered down o their glen. Their glen consisted of a stream which widened to form a pond, large smooth rocks, and numerous trees and shrubs. They considered it theirs because it was the one they had found in the winter.  
  
Dusk was setting and Ceara decided that they should get back. Using Trina, they managed to get all the beams back in one trip. They were a sight to see walking back into Edinburgh. Both Ceara and Ebekah were balancing beams between them on both shoulders and Trina was lugging the rest. Some men offered to help, but the sisters insisted that they could manage.  
  
When they got to the home site, a strange sight awaited them. Before them, they saw the stone floors of the house, hall, and stable. They were also aware of a stone fireplace and walkway.  
  
"I see you two have managed quite well without us," Ebekah commented.  
  
"We have, haven't we," returned Diedyia. "Now, before it gets too late, let's get these support beams secured into the ground."  
  
The four of them accomplished this task in about an hour and a half. The next morning, after they set the morning meal for Robert and the other nobles and cleared it away, the O'Noclahn family went back to work. Today they were going to put it the three foot high stone walls that would be the foundation of the roundhouse.  
  
Up in the tower, Robert as talking with his father; Robert the Bruce 16th Earl of Scotland.  
  
"Son, who are those people who have been so busy lately? They are not ones I recognize."  
  
"They are the Irish that I was telling you about. Longshanks sent them here two months ago. They have bee living as servants."  
  
"MORE Irish have been added to our servant staff! Just what are you trying to do here? Soon, all of Edinburgh will be overrun with those DAMN Irish. Do you not understand what they can do?" Lord Robert the Bruce's voice was thin yet commanding.  
  
"Father, have some pity."  
  
"PITY! Why should I pity the Irish? They've nothing for me." Lord Robert turned away form his son, appalled that the young Robert would think of and dare suggest such an idea to his father.  
  
"They have all come to Scotland in the same manner. The English come, destroy their villages and bring any survivors to England. Some escape and manage to get back, others are executed and even more are sent here. To have such a fate is something that we cannot even begin to imagine." Pleading filled the younger Bruce's voice. He knew his father could be cruel, but he knew his father was not completely heartless. Maybe, just maybe, the elder Bruce could understand compassion.  
  
"You were always headstrong, my boy; that is a family trait. But that will not allow you to get the support you need form the nobles." He looked at his son, knowing that he had what it takes to become the king of Scotland. "Just as long as you do not allow the Irish to overrun Edinburgh, we should be all set.  
  
April was coming to an end; all too quickly for Ceara. The passing month had seen the O'Noclahn build their roundhouse and leave the close knit family of the servants. Since the house was newly built, it still did not have all of the furnishings of a will lived in Celtic roundhouse. They still needed a loom, a spinning wheel, and some cooking ware. Never being partial to sleeping in beds, the O'Noclahns slept on pallets. Blankets for the winter had yet to be made, but it was spring so there was time.  
  
The Christian holiday of Pentecost was fast approaching and all of Edinburgh was beginning to prepare. Well, almost everyone. The O'Noclahns and other pagans were getting ready for Beltane. At this festival, they would pray to the Mother Goddess that their crops would be fertile and plentiful at harvest time. Up on a hillside they were building the ceremonial bonfires that would be lit.  
  
All day, Ceara and Ebekah kept running from group to group trying to do all the necessary chores. Somehow, they both kept it up for many, many days. One day, Ceara and Ebekah were in the Great Hall. It was one day before the Christian Pentecost. The two sisters were hanging the banners when Robert the Bruce stormed in. A very nervous looking page followed behind him.  
  
"What do you mean, there's another festival tomorrow! Christians never have two festivals on the same day."  
  
"Mi. mi. milord, it's not a Christian festival," stuttered the page.  
  
"Then what is it?"  
  
Having enough of the ignorance being displayed by the Bruce, Ceara spoke up. "Milord, it is the pagan festival of Beltane. My family and I are among the group of people celebrating it."  
  
A look of disbelief crossed the Bruce's face. He could not believe that pagans still existed in Scotland. All his life he had been taught that Christianity was Scotland's only religion.  
  
"It is clear to me that you had no idea. The look on your face betrays such a fact." Ebekah said this from atop a ladder. "Would I be right in assuming that you have been taught that Christianity is the only religion?" The blank look on Robert's face only confirmed her question.  
  
Ebekah motioned for her sister to come to her. "Would it do him any good to invite him to come and experience Beltane?"  
  
Ceara thought about it, trying to envision all the different possibilities. "Actually, it might do him some good. Perhaps it will allow him to govern his people a bit better."  
  
Ceara turned to Robert, "After the Pentecost feast tomorrow, go to your chamber and change your clothing. Come dressed as any common man; boots, kilt, and shirt. Go through the servant's quarters and out that back door. We will be waiting for you."  
  
Robert only nodded in silent agreement. He was unsure what this course of action would cause, but he was willing to try it.  
  
"Milord, nobles arriving at the gates!" cried a page. "Best come and greet them." 


	7. The Gifts of Beltane

Chapter 7: Gifts of Beltane  
  
Beltane morning. Ceara awoke, knowing that it was going to be a good day. She cared not that it was the Christian Pentecost. A clear bright sky told her that it was going to be a good night.  
  
On Beltane, one always wore a specific outfit; one that clearly showed off what you were. Often, men would walk around wearing only their kilts; this was completely acceptable. Every virgin wore a similar outfit; a sheer flowing skirt that sat low on the hips and a halter belly top with beaded fringe. Now, Ceara and Ebekah had left theirs in Ireland; though now they were probably a smoldering pile of ash. Locked in his mother's chest, Robert the Bruce found the necessary materials and gladly gave them to the sisters.  
  
As was tradition, they spent all morning preparing. Ebekah looked stunning in an outfit made of green and gold. Her long red curls hung lose and were topped with a crown of white flowers. Today, Ceara lost the hard working peasant girl guise and adopted a mystic faery guise. Anyone who saw her on Beltane could have sworn that she was unearthly, angelic almost. She made her skirt out of a piece of solid white silk overlain with a sheer blue. She hemmed the top a band of silver silk. The bottom was hemmed with the silver silk along with being hung with silver beads that tinkled with every movement she made. Ceara's top was made of solid blue silk with the same silver beads on the bottom hem. It had a plunging V- neckline and a chain halter strap made of silver chain maile. The back was open except for the tie straps crisscrossing to hold it together. Her auburn hair hung loose like her sister's and was crowned with blue and white morning glories. She had been able to save what little jewelry she had and wore it with pride.  
  
That afternoon, Robert the Bruce held the Pentecost feast. Many nobles had come with their daughters to try and marry them off to Robert or any other noble who night be interested; for a price. Ceara, Ebekah, and a few other young Irish servants had volunteered to serve. They served the meal while ignoring the looks that some of the nobles gave them. Ceara had been assigned to serve the Bruce. She knew that many of the daughters that had come despised her and envied her at the same time. She would stand there laughing with the Bruce and serving his food, all in the same instant.  
  
When it came time for the nobles to present their daughters, Ceara and Ebekah stood on either side. No one could have guessed that they were serving as Robert's personal body guards. He had seen the sisters up keeping their fighting skills and was quite impressed. He sat in his chair, bored out of his mind.  
  
"May I present my daughter Elizabeth," yet another noble said. That night, it seemed that all the ladies were Scottish seemed to have English names. Damn English influence. Scotland is becoming less Scottish each day.  
  
Robert looked at the Lady Elizabeth. Her features were neither beautiful nor ugly. She was just another girl who was trying to be married off by her father. He almost pitied the girl.  
  
"What do you make of this one," he murmured to the sisters.  
  
Ebekah simply said, "She's quite plain; young too. Can't be older than sixteen."  
  
"What about you, Ceara?" Robert asked.  
  
Ceara said, "She is young, probably has little experience in running a household like this. She'd be better off on a large estate, not a military city like Edinburgh. She wouldn't do well in such a close proximity to commoners. Look how she shies away from me and Ebekah." Ceara was good at reading people; she could tell what they were like.  
  
Robert exchanged pleasantries with this Lady Elizabeth and kept moving down the line. It was almost sunset and time for the Pentecost Mass. He made the announcement and all followed, except for those celebrating Beltane. Those who were going to be celebrating the pagan holiday went off to prepare the feast. Many of the nobles who were stout Catholics, were dismayed to see these ancient holidays being carried out.  
  
Out of range of the Bruce, the two sisters broke out into fits of laughter. "Did you see al of those pathetic girls?" Ebekah laughed. "I know some Irish wenches back home that look better than they do!"  
  
"And at least those wenches have some personality. I've never seen a more dismal group." Ceara walked up to the door if their home, and gripped the doorframe for support.  
  
"What are you two laughing about now?" demanded Diedyia from inside.  
  
Ceara and Ebekah went inside, got their cloaks and headed out again. Silently, they walked to the servant's entrance. A few servants passed, on their way to the fires. They waited in the dark until they heard the hesitant step of Robert the Bruce.  
  
"Finally, you decided to show up," Ceara teased. "Now hurry or we're going to be late and miss the lighting ritual."  
  
The sisters each took one of Robert's hands and began running, practically dragging him behind them. As they drew closer, they could hear the sounds of a steady drumbeat, calling everyone to the fires. Pagans from all around Edinburgh were gathering, willing to worship the Mother Goddess who had given them life. "Let the English come," they said.  
  
"Now remember," warned Ceara. "You're now just Robert, a commoner. You hold no noble title. You have not the power to arrest, kill, or demand. Forget everything and learn."  
  
The group neared the unlit Great Fire. The sisters knelt and prayed. Robert decided that it would be best if he followed suit. The sounds of the pulsing drumbeat filled his head. His own heartbeat soon took the drum's rhythm. A cry went up in the crowd; he looked up to see Ceara leading the procession. Next to him, Ebekah beamed with pride.  
  
A fiddler joined the chorus of drummers to create an even more haunting melody. The entire procession circled the Great Fire, intoning the ancient words of invocation. Beside him, Ebekah explained that Ceara was acting as the High Priestess. When he asked why, she explained that there were no more priestesses left in Scotland to fulfill the duty. Ceara, having some Druid training, was the closest they could get to having a real priestess. Watching Ceara showed the Bruce just what he was missing. He had never know that pagan feasts could be so enchanting.  
  
After intoning the ancient words, Ceara lit the fire; this told everyone present that the feast had begun. Rollicking music filled the night along with the laughter and crackling of the fires. Huge tables were laden with food even more wonderful than anything that was ever served at a noble's table.  
  
"Where did you get all of this food?" Robert had never seen commoners with so much food.  
  
"Well," Ebekah began, "People from all over brought it with them. It's kind of like their offering to a successful feast. Besides, it's only at feasts that we get a good meal." With that, she took up a wooden plate and began to pile it with food.  
  
"Ebekah, save some for the rest of us." Ceara came gliding towards her sister, smiling. "Some of us haven't eaten in a few days."  
  
Ebekah handed her older sister a plate and watched as She piled on even more food than she had. The sisters encouraged the Bruce to try some, telling him that it was better than any noble would ever eat. He din not believe them, so he ate. Much to his dismay, the O'Noclahn sisters were right; again.  
  
When ha had finished eating, Ebekah and Ceara brought him to the fires. They watched as the Virgin Huntress blessed the Horned One to go run with the deer. The Huntress was then brought inside a ring of fire. Everyone waited in anticipation for the Horned One to return. When he walked into the ring of fire to lay with the Virgin Huntress, a great cry rose up. Wild music flared up and dancers were worked into a frenzy; the dancing would last into the early morning. With the O'Noclahn sisters beside him, Robert joined in, almost a new man.  
  
That night, the moon was at its zenith, and the tides ran through people's blood. Around midnight, a rider, weary with many days travel behind him, arrived. It was a small wonder that he was still alive, considering all of the wounds he bore. Ceara was called to take a look at him and begin medical treatment.  
  
Ceara walked towards the now dismounted rider. There was something familiar about him, but Ceara did not know what. She picked up a torch and held it to the man's face. She let out a gasp of surprise and called, "Ebekah, come quickly!"  
  
"Ceara, what-" Ebekah asked when she came  
  
"Look - do you know him?" she questioned.  
  
Ebekah looked and started to cry. "Savin, you fund me. How?"  
  
"Blessed Goddess! Ebekah! What are you doing in Scotland?" A million questions filled Savin's head, but it hurt too much o think about them.  
  
"Ebekah, stay here while I find Diedyia. She'll know what to do." 


	8. News

Chapter 8: News  
  
Ceara ran through the fires, searching for her grandmother. She found her among many pagan children. Ceara could hear Diedyia teaching them the ancient Druid mysteries that she herself knew by heart.  
  
"Grandmama, come quickly," Ceara breathed. "A rider has arrived. He's in terrible condition. This is beyond my skill to heal."  
  
"Go fetch my chest from the house. It should have everything I need. Is there anyone with him?"  
  
"Ebekah is there now. Did I mention that the rider is Savin?" Ceara saw a mix of emotions cross Diedyia's face. She began to run towards the house when Robert caught up with her.  
  
"What's going on? Do you know that rider?" Robert was thoroughly confused and trying to make sense of everything.  
  
"In answer to your questions, yes we do know him. That is Savin, Ebekah's betrothed. We haven't seen him since the attack on Donegal. Ebekah's been worried sick about him."  
  
Without saying another word, Ceara bolted to her family's round house. Quickly searching she found the chest her grandmother wanted. They both headed back, wondering what kid of news he bore.  
  
When Ceara and Robert returned, they found Ebekah and Savin finishing a very emotional reunion. Handing Diedyia the chest, Ceara stepped back and let her grandmother work. Back in Donegal, Diedyia had been famed for her healing skills. Her survival through many clan wars had only fine tuned her natural ability. Watching Diedyia, Ceara saw many years worth of skill being put to good use.  
  
Slaving and binding Savin's wounds, Diedyia asked if he was well enough to eat. "Wait a minute, why am I even asking that question? You're an Irishman, of course you're well enough to eat!"  
  
Ebekah came forward with a plat of food and a tankard of water. She refused to five him any alcohol because of his current state. She sat by him, making sure that he ate and enough of everything. Ebekah was not going to let her newly found betrothed to be taken away again.  
  
Ceara watched her sister, a small bit of envy and jealously building up inside her. 'Why can't I have something like that? What does it take for someone like me to find a love?' Someone could have argued that Ceara had someone in the form of Sir Robert the Bruce, 17th Earl of Scotland, but she would argue that a commoner like herself has no place to love a noble. She spoke the truth, but many would have been able to overlook that fact if Robert gave up his noble title and lived as a commoner or granted nobility to the O'Nochlans.  
  
Robert looked at Savin, trying to get a feel for what kind of person he must be. He figured that Savin had to be a substantial person if the O'Nochlans were willing to accept him. Savin looked up, aware of the intent eyes on him. Slowly, he drew a breath and addressed the Bruce.  
  
"Ye stand there, almost as if analyzing who I am. Why?"  
  
Robert let out a laugh and explained himself. "I'm just trying to figure out what there is about you that the O'Nochlans' see. But besides that, do you have any news from the outside?"  
  
"Aye, I have news, but I'm not sure how well it will go over. But, since ye asked, I will tell ye. A Rebel by the name of William Wallace has begun a rebellion. Supposedly he married in secret, and the English lord found out about it; th8is he killed Wallace's wife to lure Wallace. Filled with rage, he attacked the garrison and slew the magistrate. All to avenge the death of his wife. He moves with an army, ever steadily south towards here. They should be here by midsummer, if my sources are right." Savin's face clouded, knowing what may happen if things got out of hand.  
  
"Where then, did you acquire all of these lovely wounds?" Ebekah questioned. Her face was a picture of pure concern. Savin, slightly amused by his beloved's concern, laughed.  
  
"My dear, some are old from the attack on Donegal. Many however, are from when I was being tortured in an English prison. A fellow prisoner had told me that you all had been there only three days before me. I must say that it's kind of ironic."  
  
Ebekah's eyes widened, amazed at how Fate was playing their lives. She resolved to let Fate play it's hand, but she was not about to let it ruin her life. "Savin, rest. You've been through enough."  
  
A bob of red hair came walking through the crowd of onlookers. Never being one to take fights and wounds well, Myechiyel had stayed far away. When he had heard that it was Savin, he ventured forward. "Uncle Savin?" ventured the little boy. "Ye be alright?"  
  
Considering that Myechiyel was only three years old, his speech was surprisingly good. He had surpassed the local children in learning English. He had always spoken Gaelic with the family.  
  
"Myech, don't worry. I'll be fine. I just need to rest." Savin's eyes fell on Ceara who stood in the back of the crowd, Robert beside her.  
  
"Ceara, what's wrong? Your face looks like ye just saw death's door."  
  
Ceara stood silent, and no one understood why. She stood there, eyes wide, swaying back and forth. No one knew it, but Ceara was having an active vision. In her mind, and playing before her eyes, she was seeing yet another event of the future. It was an echo of an earlier vision. Two large armies were arranged against each other; one English, one Scottish. This time however, the Sight took things further. She saw the battle carried out in full, blood soaking the ground. Then something new happened; she could feel the pain that the warriors were suffering. Ceara fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Over and over she gave a heart wrenching scream, similar to a banshee's. Everything was silent; nothing even stirred the slightest bit. Ceara could normally bear pain, but not the pain of thousands.  
  
"Don't touch her," Diedyia warned when someone tried to help Ceara. "Touching her, especially when she's like this, and the Sight is upon her, she could die." 'Why is she feeling the pain? This has never happened before, even to people who have had the Sight longer than she.' While Diedyia was lost in her thoughts, the Sight slowly released Ceara from its grasp.  
  
Lying on the cool, moss covered ground, Ceara slowly regained control of herself. Normally she should have been able to free herself from the Sight's grasp, but this time she had no control over her mind or body. Silently, Ceara whispered a prayer, 'Goddess, I pray that I will never have to experience something like that ever again. I freely do Your will, but that was too much. I am but a simple mortal vessel.' She could almost hear the Fates laughing at her humanity. With shaking limbs, Ceara tried to stand. Robert the Bruce came over and placed a supportive arm around her.  
  
"You know," he said, talking as though nothing had happened, "Once tomorrow comes, I'll have to go back to being a noble." There seemed to be a hit of remorse in his voice.  
  
"What a loss. And here I was thinking that maybe you would never return to that life again. Ah, cruel Fate." Ceara was grateful that he was not asking about what had happened.  
  
"If I don't go back, then who would be there to keep the nobles from tearing Scotland and each other apart?" They had come to a rocky section that Robert knew Ceara would not be able to navigate. So, almost effortlessly, he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way home.  
  
Sighing, Ceara pointed out, "It's too bad that Beltane had to be interrupted. Things were just getting started."  
  
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it too much. I think that I've learned something. From now on, Pagan holidays will no longer have to be held in secret. It's not fair." Robert put her down, holding her shoulder until she regained her balance.  
  
Ceara was saddened to leave the safety and comfort of the Bruce's arms, but she knew full well that something like this could never last. Besides, it was not what she wanted; he had nobility, she did not want any of it. She paced the floor of the roundhouse afraid to go to sleep. A footstep sounded behind her and she whirled around, prepared to fight. Peering through the shadows, she recognized the rest of her family.  
  
"Ceara, could you help us get Savin settled? I realize that you're weak, but I think you can manage." Diedyia's tone was curt, almost reprimanding.  
  
Myechiyel was told to get the spare pallet out of storage. Ceara and Ebekah helped Savin lie down without undoing his mending wounds.  
  
In a low voice he asked, "Who was that man who was carrying ye, Ceara?" The question was innocent and gentle, so Ceara had no problem answering.  
  
Upon hearing the explanation, Savin let out a low whistle. "So tonight that man was playing the part of a commoner, just to better understand the common way of life and Pagan tradition?" A mischievous glint caught in his eye. "Are ye sure?"  
  
Despite the small complication that Savin was not exactly related to the O'Nochlans, Ceara had known him almost her entire life. Remembering all of their childhood moments, she gave him a sisterly shove. "How can you even suggest such a thing!" she playfully demanded.  
  
"Oh just the fact that ye hardly left his side," Savin shot back. Though he was twenty two years old, he had a habit of acting like a five year old.  
  
Diedyia watched from a distance, shaking her head. "All right, time to go to bed."  
  
Right on cue they all whined, "Aww, de we have to?"  
  
"Yes, now before I have to start treating you like the age you are acting!"  
  
Hearing that outburst, it registered in their heads that they should cut it out before all hell broke loose. Ceara lay down, but refused to sleep. Common sense told her that the Sight would never do what it did tonight again, but the unrealistic part of her mind said there was a possibility. She stared out the window, not knowing that in a few days time her vision was going to come true... 


End file.
